


The Secrets (That You Keep)

by SilverBird13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Furry, Grantaire the porn artist, M/M, but he's not judging, discussions of different fandoms, for someone's Tumblr headcanon, he needed cash, not really a parody, so Internet commissions, the title is a joke, then it gets angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, around 3 AM, Grantaire would seriously look at the shit he was doing.  But Hell, who was he to scoff on what someone got off on?  You want Spike the dragon blowing Sherlock (BBC!LOCK ONLY)?  You got it for $35 within the month."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secrets (That You Keep)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr headcanon I saw a few months back about Grantaire doing furry porn commissions online for extra money. This is the result.

Grantaire took a swig of beer as he logged into his non-uni email and immediately wished, as usual, that he’d chugged the whole damn can.  
  
 _“!!1111FLUTTERJACK NEEDED!!!111!!_  
  
 _“i really want this so i think u should read this need 3 TARDIS whores by tues”_  
  
 _“MORE JOHNLOCK FOR VIOLEXXX PLS GOT CASH”_  
  
 _“Request for Hannibal/stag fisting”_   
  
Those charming titles were accompanied by another 2 dozen of their familiars, each one seemingly more random and childhood-crushing than the last.  
  
Grantaire took another swig and got out his tablet.  _TARDIS whores?_   
  
 It was going to be a long night.

  
*************

  
The stupid thing started because he needed drinking money.  
  
Hell, he just needed money, really.  
  
And yeah, he was an art major, and yeah, he had Internet access.  
  
Poof.  Rtisticsex.com was born.  And soon booming, since apparently if you draw one guy from BBC getting fucked in the ass for 20$, you’ll have 5 requests for more by the next day.  
  
With half of them for wolves and foxes and horses banging instead.  
  
The first furry request he did (“Hard n’ hot Vergil on BD.com fucking Shakira?”) wasn’t even that bad.  He did that one, received ten more, and got half-decent cigarettes that day for a change.  
  
(He also swore that Courf would never be allowed to fix his laptop again, but that came with the territory).    
  
Hell, drawing half-decent dragon dicks didn’t require you to be Picasso, for Christ’s sake.    
  
(Or sober, for that matter).   
  
Sometimes, around 3 AM, Grantaire would seriously look at the shit he was doing.  But Hell, who was he to scoff on what someone got off on?  You want Spike the dragon blowing Sherlock (BBC!LOCK ONLY)?  You got it for $35 within the month.  
  
At least their damn cash got them exactly what they wanted, while he had to settle for a Facebook profile and some protest speech videos.  
  
*************  
  
“Jesus fuck,” he said aloud, groaning, “if you want your fucking Balto scissoring shit, you fucking pay in advance!”  
  
That was Grantaire’s one rule.    
  
Sansan necrophilia, Cinderella getting fucked by a mouse, platypuses mating.  He didn’t give a shit.  Use Paypal first and you’d get it in two weeks if commissions were open.  
  
(Or sooner for an extra $10).  
  
Grantaire had “supersexxxwhovian“ to thank for this rule, since after working 4 hours trying to match some soda-can-size dildo on BadDragon.com going into the commissioner’s favorite cartoon bear’s vag, he’d been left unpaid.  
  
(According to this asshole, “ _the orange didn’t ombray enough and it doesn’t look like the product I referanced_.”)  
  
It had taken four shots and a round of boxing to keep him from throwing his tablet out the window and into the quad.  
  
Which, Grantaire thought with a dry laugh, would have fucked him over even more, considering it was basically made of steel.  
  
*************  
  
 _Jesus fucking Mpreg_ , Grantaire thought as he manuvered Wolverine’s left claw away from his “needs to be milk-swollen” breasts that Sabertooth was massaging.  _Jesus fucking Mpreg should be my trademark curse._  
  
Shit.    
  
But what if it gave them ideas?  
  
*************  
  
It was 2 AM and he was fucking done.  
  
 _“Hi, I want a beautiful red fox named Myrisha getting anal from a black stallion with a really big dick.  REALLY big.  Can you send it by next Wednesday?  I’ll give you an extra $15 :)”_  
  
Currently, the stallion was finished, “REALLY” big dick proudly jutting out in front of him as the tip disappeared into the sketchy blob that was Myrisha.  
  
Shit.  How did one make a red fox “beautiful”?  
  
Sure, Grantaire had had plenty of similar requests in the past, but none of them ever asked for any subject to be “beautiful.”    
  
What was _beautiful_?  
  
 _You fucking know, you dumbass_ , Grantaire’s brain snipped at him, _Just do it_.  
  
Grantaire groaned and picked up the pen again, sketching slim lines and neat curves to outline Myrisha, adding long curls and flirty eyelashes.  
  
 _Fuck_ , he thought the entire time, _this kind of shit is why he ignores me, why I will never be half of what he is._  
  
The curls became blonde, the eyes blue.  
  
Grantaire saved the image file, attached it to a reply e-mail, and let himself break.  
  
  



End file.
